


Belated Realisations

by Mis_Shapes



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bickering, Blow Jobs, Business, Kinda, Light BDSM, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Porn with minimal Plot, Rimming, Rivalry, Strangely less arguing than usual, Suits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 11:03:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20929163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mis_Shapes/pseuds/Mis_Shapes
Summary: Theon scanned himself in the full-length antique mirror. Sometimes he didn’t know just how exactly he’d see himself in the reflection and today all he felt capable of doing was to scrutinise himself. Too scrawny, too extravagant, too much. Even this, the suit he’d purposefully picked out to be conservative, didn’t take the edge off. Perhaps this was the wrong place to go for what he wanted. Something, anything, to make Balon take him seriously. If only he knew.Theon and Jon find themselves buying suits for different, but related, reasons at the same tailors. One in attempt to ease family relations and the other to add fuel to the fire. Both need a little stress relief.





	Belated Realisations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CafeLeningrad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CafeLeningrad/gifts).

> Prompt fill for CafeLeningrad - Thanks! Though... I think this might not quite match the prompt very well. Sorry!

Theon scanned himself in the full-length antique mirror. Sometimes he didn’t know just how exactly he’d see himself in the reflection and today all he felt capable of doing was to scrutinise himself. Too scrawny, too extravagant, too much. Even this, the suit he’d purposefully picked out to be conservative, didn’t take the edge off. Perhaps this was the wrong place to go for what he wanted. Something, anything, to make Balon take him seriously. If only he knew. 

The tailor continued placing pins where alterations needed making as Theon stared at himself, the thundering noise of rain masking the conversation of the sales assistants by the window. Another time and he’d enjoy the image before him and a spot of retail therapy often did him some good. 

“I’m going to need to tone it down with the shirt and tie,” Theon sighed, turning slightly to the side to take in his profile. It would be one of these times that, in a fit of madness, he’d decide to cut off his hair. Like that might make Balon love him.

One of the assistants leapt to attention, eager to please or impressively anxious of messing it up, Theon wasn’t sure. “Yes, sir, we’ll find something with a classic vibe.”

The bell above the door rang as a shaggy mess of a man practically fell into the room and out of the bad weather. He recognised those messy dark curls and that impressively sullen look. He knew the weather was shite but the irritation radiating off the newcomer was to an extreme. Misery loves company?

“Well well, if it isn’t Jon Snow,” Theon called over by way of a greeting, unwittingly straightening himself out to gain a better posture.

“A friend of yours, Mr Greyjoy?” asked the tailor. Looking from Jon, who was dripping water over the floor, and to Theon with a raised brow.

He’d grown up alongside Snow and the rest of his family, the Starks, but he wouldn’t go as far as to call him a friend, no matter how hard Robb, Jon’s cousin, had tried to push them together.

“Something of a family friend.”

“Ah.”

“Greyjoy,” Jon responded finally, looking like he might run back out at any moment, way out of his depth. Theon would place bets on Jon not having an existing single item of made to measure clothing in his entire wardrobe.

The second sales assistant appeared before Jon, taking his coat from him and holding it out in front of her at arms reach so as to not get wet herself.

“May I get you a drink, sir?” She asked. “Something hot perhaps?”

“A coffee, please, thank you.”

Despite his previous disapproval, Theon had to admit that was coming to appreciate the way Jon’s wet t-shirt clung to him. He’d certainly filled out a little since Theon had last seen him.

“Can we get two?” Theon requested. “And make them Irish. Thanks, love.”

The characteristic scowl on Jon’s face deepened and he wiped the rainwater from his watch to peak at the time, but ultimately decided not to comment. Interesting.

Hands still working on the fit of Theon’s jacket, the tailor addressed Jon. “What can we do for you, sir?”

“Uh, well, I’d like a suit,” Jon began and abruptly finished, leaving Theon to chortle. He shouldn’t expect much, not really, not with Robb as a brother.

“Now, that's something we can help you with,” said the tailor politely. Presumably part of his trade was to win round these types. “What's the occasion?”

Snow shrugged unhelpfully. “Just work, I suppose.”

“Single breasted? Double-breasted? Business?”

“I guess business?”

Theon gave a heavy sigh and hopped down from the small plinth, pulling off the jacket. He walked closer to Jon, openly looking him up and down.

“Single breasted, slim-fitting, tweed, grey perhaps,” Theon recommended and watched as all three of the others in the room turned to watch for Jon’s reaction. “And it might be nice to see him in a three-piece.

He hesitated, and Theon knew exactly why. Though unable to do this for himself, he wasn’t one to simply take Theon’s advice on any matter, even if he did know what he was doing. But today he didn’t appear to have it in him to argue.

“Yeah, why not,” he said with a sigh.

Theon gawked at him. First the drink, now an entire suit. What else could he get away with, he wondered? That wasn’t a thought he should be entertaining, but it was tempting enough to consider that his current expression probably wasn’t a particularly attractive one.

“Sir,” the sales assistant returned to him with a couple of ties as Jon got up to have his measurements taken.

Having picked two options, Theon stood before Jon, watching as the tape measure was brought around his broad chest.

“Which one?” Theon asked, holding them both against himself.

“The green,” Snow told him without a hint of hesitation as he looked at him directly in the eye.

  
-  


  


Fuck, he looked good. If only Snow always allowed him to dress him up, like some pretty plaything. Only thing was, he was back to his usual argumentative self, and if anything it was worse than before. A couple of weeks later they had landed a dinner with each other. Unfortunately, it was business… for now.

“You’re taking advantage of our relationship,” Jon told him with a grumble.

Theon could’ve choked. “I’m sorry?” he spluttered, his attention captured by the perfect grey storm of Jon’s eyes. The suit was working wonders for him.

Snow tutted, sitting back in the seat, crossing his legs so that his shin sat against his thigh, and waiting a moment while they waited for the main course’s dishes to be taken away. “You’re under the impression that I’ll cave and go easy on you for history’s sake,” he elaborated.

Perhaps this was true. That was how business worked after all. This was why he’d reached out to the Starks to secure his first deal rather than another company. Both increase his chances of succeeding and show his father he could do what needed to be done and possibly screw them over in the process. What better way to prove he was a Greyjoy through and through? He’d been thrown by the revelation that Jon was being sent and not Robb. When had Snow accepted a place at the Stark company and not his grandfather’s?

“No-” Theon began his denial.

“Jeez, I need something to get through this,” snapped Snow, and called the waitress over to request negronis for the table.

“I think this is something we can make work for both the families,” Jon’s right hand, Davos, interrupted. “As long as we can reach a sensible price.”

Pursing his lips, thoroughly irritated, Theon turned silent and allowed Kyra to do the talking for him. It had been her idea to do this out in the open. A drink later and they seemed to be making some progress. Jon was hesitating, sensing that he was being pushed into something again. The look softened his face, the thought process too much to remember to be a mard arse apparently. His plump lips parted ever so slightly, begging for attention.

Theon downed the rest of the drink and stood from the table. “Would you excuse us a moment, please? I’d like a word with Jon alone.”

“I’m not sure-” Davos began, setting a hand against Jon in an attempt to stop him doing something foolish.

“It's alright, we won’t be long, I promise. I’ll play nice.”

Jon sucked in his lip thoughtfully and finally nodded, finishing his own drink without much haste before he followed Theon.

Outside, Theon smirked as he pulled a cigarette pack from his pocket and offered one to Jon silently only to be turned down with a scornful look.

“Suit yourself.”

“What do you want, Greyjoy?” Jon crossed his arms over his chest protectively. “Make it quick.”

He brought the smoke to his lips and took his time lighting up. “Take the offer and I’ll offer you exclusivity. If we can’t agree to this I’ll have to go to the Targaryens.”

“What makes you think-”  _ that’s what I want,  _ Jon was about to say, Theon assumed.

He knew the smirk brewing would look arrogant. “Oh, come on Snow.”

“You don’t have the authority to do that,” Jon said sounding dubious. A confirmation of his hypothesis that Snow wasn’t on good terms with his paternal family.

It was true, for now.

Theon took a drag of the cigarette and blew out the smoke over his shoulder. Taking a risk, he ran fingers either side of the lapel on Jon’s jacket and took a step closer to him. Moved by impulse, Jon mirrored him, coming in close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him. He needed this as much as he did.

“I want to change that, and I can only do that with your help. Besides,” he pushed back some of the curls falling onto Snow's face, “I do make the most excellent of decisions. Fuck, Snow, you look good.” He ran a hand down Jon’s side, inside the jacket and under the pretence of admiring the waistcoat. That element had been foolish on his part. “I can think of only one improvement I’d make.”

“Oh?” 

Momentarily, Theon had interpreted this as a dim moment on Jon’s part, not noticing the beginning of a chat-up line when he heard one, but as soon as his head tilted slightly to one side and brows quirked he saw it for what it was. An encouragement. He should’ve known that Snow would like being talked to.

“For starters,” he lowered his voice, leaning in to Jon’s ears and pressing harshly onto hip with his thumb, slipping in under the additional layer until only the thin fabric of the cotton shirt was below. “I’d like to see what the majority of that outfit would look like on my bedroom floor.”

“The majority?” Jon asked curiously, moving close enough for Theon to feel his cheek against his own and his lips ghosting his ear.

  
-

He pulled the tie around Jon’s wrists tighter than necessary, taking pleasure out of him succumbing and the needy noises that escaped from his lips. Roughly, he pushed Jon down onto the bed.

Slowly, deliberately, Theon began to undress, letting his hands drift tantalisingly slowly down himself, every movement elaborate. He’d never imagined he’d finally get Jon in this position and there was no way he was going to give in to a quick fuck.

“Greyjoy,” breathed Jon desperately. “You owe me.”

“Shhh,” Theon whispered, slipping off his underwear and approaching Jon, waiting for the silent consent of a dropped jaw before tucking them carefully into Jon’s mouth and stroking at his curls with the other hand. Jon put up no protest, taking them willingly and sucking at Theon’s fingers through the cloth as his cheeks burnt red. “Baby, don’t you worry, I’m going to well and truly screw you. Much like I have planned for your grandfather’s company. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

The whimper was muffled by both the fabric and fingers, the vibrations ran through him and straight to his hard-on.

“That’s what I thought. You naughty thing. What would your daddy say?” 

It was quite something how pliant Snow was being with him. They’d pushed back at each other until he broke, accepting a gracious defeat. It was exhilarating and on close observation, he’d swear Snow had been hoping for the opportunity to cave without throwing an argument purely for the sake of it. As though he’d been waiting for Theon to put in the effort for years. The pinnacle of playing hard to get.

His hands took hold of Jon, pulling him to sit at the edge of the bed. He maintained eye contact as he sunk down onto his knees. The muscles in Jon’s arms flexed as he instinctively went to hold Theon’s head only to be stopped by the binding. Theon grinned up at him, caressing his inner thighs softly. Following the movement of his hands, he placed his lips against Jon’s warm skin, inhaling his scent. He felt Jon’s dick twitch with interest against his head through the thin layer between them, silently willing him on.

He tugged playfully at the hems and waistband of Jon’s boxers, working his plaything’s frustration, nudging his finger ever so slightly underneath and using carefully placed kisses.

“If you want something you should just ask for it,” Theon teased, running his nails against the sensitive skin and smirking at Jon’s wriggling and his eventual decision to lay back onto the bed and throw his leg over Theon’s shoulder, pulling him in with his heel. Under the pretence of taking pity on the man, Theon pulled down the underwear, blowing warm air against the erection, but instead of allowing Jon to feel the wet heat of his mouth he seized hold of Jon’s hips and flipped him over onto his stomach.

Jon’s muffled cries of protest ended abruptly when he felt the tongue lick slowly up the cleft of his arse, leaving him trembling below Theon’s body when it stopped to circle the ring of muscle in its path. Theon slipped his tongue through and into the hole, gratified by the feeling of Jon pushing back against him and the way he sought friction against the sheets. He gripped Jon tightly, possessively, taking in the noises Jon would make even as Theon pulled away to look at him as he continued to knead at his buttocks. Experimentally, he dragged his teeth against a cheek, sinking them in with a playful bite when hearing a positive whimper and feeling Jon raise himself slightly.

Theon watched the bruise begin to bloom purple, gazing with arousal at the appearance of his mark on Jon’s body. Compelled to take care of the pain, he licked and kissed tenderly, aware of Jon’s shudder as he begun and the relative silence that followed.

“Jon?” He asked apprehensively, reaching forwards to remove the gag.

“More,” was all he managed to get out.

“Greedy,” Theon scolded, bringing his flat palm against Jon’s backside. “Try that again.”

“Greyjoy-”

He tutted. Threading his free hand through Jon’s curls he pulled him back, hoping he hadn’t misinterpreted his non compliance as a bit of fun rather than actual annoyance. His heart stopped in his chest at the response.

Snow moaned, “please… sir.”

Theon caressed the redness he’d provoked. “You look good with my prints against your arse, baby, but there’s one problem.”

“Problem?” Jon asked, voice torn between concern and hope, rolling with permission and assistance until he was laid out in front of Theon.

“I’m not convinced you’re enough of a slut for them to receive the appreciation they deserve. I want  _ everyone _ to know what you’ve been up to.” Theon grinned wickedly, imagining Cat’s scorn and Robb’s intrigue, the girls being entertained, and Ned’s quiet embarrassment. Despite the plan, he started first with Jon’s inner thigh, but not before reaching for lube from his bedside drawer. Jon cried out at the combined feeling of both the bite and the sensation of Theon’s finger entering him. He writhed under Theon’s gentle touches and the warmth of his tongue.

“Theon, please, sir, my hands.”

“Only because you beg so nicely,” he conceded, fumbling desperately at the tie’s knot with one hand as he watched the expression on Jon’s face.

Jon immediately propped himself up on his elbows to watch Theon, beads of sweat on his brow. If he was looking for a show then Theon wasn’t going to disappoint.

With a cocky air, he tilted his chin up and pursed his lips, eyes torn between meeting Jon’s own and his open mouth as he joined a second finger. Jon’s eyes fought to remain open, a little competition between them he’d devised, but his brows furrowed with the pleasure and his jaw dropped. The way in which he showed no sign of taming the noises he made left Theon achingly hard and hoping that his neighbours were either out or fast asleep.

Keeping Jon’s attention, he lowered himself back down so that he might watch as Theon toyed with his cock. His tongue traced its way up from his balls to the tip along the ridge that lay on its underside.

“Theon,” Jon moaned.

“Mmmm?”

“I… I want you.”

Theon laughed pleasantly, pulling away momentarily. “Honey,” he smiled against Jon, playing gently with his balls, “you’ve got me, right between your thighs.”

Jon swallowed visibly, deciding not to pursue the line of conversation, then gasped as he felt Theon’s lips close and the wet heat of his mouth engulf him. Falling back, he clutched at Theon’s head and provided eager encouragement, fingertips scratching at his scalp. As Theon hollowed out his cheeks he felt Jon tug his hair out of the tie he’d placed it in and fan it out until it spilt out over his skin. There was no fucking way he was going to cut his hair short any time soon.

Jon’s feet moved restlessly, starting to echo how he could no longer make up his mind what to do with his own hands; alternating between running them through his own hair and Theon’s, caressing his gently and going on to grip tightly. “Gods,” he moaned, “I can’t-”

Humming against him, Theon curled his fingers, concentrating his efforts against his sweet spot and becoming lost in the sensations of Jon’s pleasure as he became close.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum,” Jon cried.

Wanting him to know this was exactly what he intended, Theon reached to take Jon’s free hand, squeezed it reassuringly, and gave the sensitive head of his cock a swirl of his tongue. He felt Jon’s body spasm and jolt with the orgasm before he tasted it. Swallowing down first, he crept up onto the bed.

Curls clung to Jon’s dazed face. He weakly encouraged Theon upwards until he hovered over him, pulling him into a long deep kiss. 

Theon pulled reluctantly away to move his attentions to his neck, nosing at it affectionately and inhaling the perfect smell. Jon already shuddered at the feeling against the sensitive area. He’d forgotten Theon’s intentions and cried out at the feel of teeth.

“Oh, fuck...” he moaned as he was soothed and bared his neck for further exploitation.

He was gorgeous and he’d been a fool not to pursue this sooner, Theon acknowledged as he pulled away. Jon’s hand pulled him back by the jaw and to his lips.

Jon spoke against his lips as he whispered, “Fuck me,” he smiled cheekily at Theon’s expectant expression, “sir.” This was a new look, one he’d like to see more often.

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” Theon instructed, and shook his head at Jon’s sloppy attempt.

“You’ve wrecked me,” Jon defended himself.

“Poor thing, you just wait.”

Lining himself up, Theon pushed forwards slowly. Jon bit down onto his lip, his eyes closing as he felt the stretch. They rocked against each other, slow and steady, moaning with hot breaths against one another’s ears. Jon turned his head to join Theon’s mouth with his own, seeking his kiss. 

He ran his hands down Jon’s torso, unable to hold back from groaning at both the sight and the tight heat clenching around his cock.

“You’re unbelievable. So fucking good.”

Jon whined. Finding renewed strength, his legs clung to Theon, lifting himself up from the bed, and his hips encouraged a faster, more punishing, rhythm.

“Gods, you take me so well,” Theon praised him, pulling his hands down round Snow’s waist and hoisting him up, exaggerating the already captivating arch of his back. “The things I want to do to you.”

“There’s nothing I won’t-” Jon suddenly cried out as Theon slammed into him with the anticipation of what was about to be said. “Nothing I won’t have already imagined,” he finished shakily.

Unable to contain himself, Theon sped up his thrusts. Jon shuddered and rolled back his eyes when Theon tweaked his nipples between his fingertips. He could sense Jon was getting close to reaching a climax once more, a relief as he was certain he couldn’t last much longer himself. 

He took hold of one of Jon’s hands and licked the palm wet before guiding it to his crotch and the erection between them. 

“I want to see how you wank off when you think of me,” Theon instructed with a wink.

Jon flushed as he gripped himself, his pouty mouth forming an O as began to pump. Then, eyes closed, he licked his lips nervously before whispering, “this is only half of it.” He had to know exactly what this would do to Theon.

Theon groaned, hoping to have the opportunity to witness this in the near future. His hand moved to caress Jon’s jaw, fingers threading through the dark curls. While looking down to take in the sight, he was taken off guard by the drop in Jon’s jaw and the strong suck on his thumb.

“Fucking hell,” he breathed, dragging it away only to replace it with his fingers to fill Jon’s mouth. Jon moaned around them and suddenly froze, ejaculating over his hand and stomach, tipping Theon over the edge. 

He collapsed forwards, removing his fingers to share soft kisses. “You’re perfect,” he breathed eventually, rolling off and reaching for the cigarettes at the side of the bed and a packet of wipes to clean Jon up.

Jon smirked, pulling himself up to sit against the pillows and headboard. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

Theon chuckled and pushed him jovially, “oi! Have some respect.” This time when he offered a smoke Jon accepted. “I thought you didn’t smoke?”

“I make the odd exception,” Jon conceded and leaned in towards the flame of the lighter held by Theon. “Sometimes there's too much pleasure to be had making a bad decision.”

“Am I one of these bad decisions?” asked Theon out of curiosity with a surprising touch of nerves.

After exhaling with an appreciative moan that ran through Theon, Jon smiled. “I thought so, but I’m hoping to be proved wrong.”

“Jon Snow admitting a fault, now that’s something I’d like to see.”

“There seems to be a lot you’d like to see me do… No, I’m thinking of a different decision.”

“The one where you piss off one half of the family?” Theon asked.

“Yeah… that… and potentially throwing the Starks under the bus in my haste,” admitted Jon warily with a small cringe.

“Ah, that,” Theon took drag, taking his time at getting back to him and earning a pinch on the leg. “If you’re willing to take my word for it - you made a good deal. Really, don’t worry about it. The Stark’s will realise the benefits of removing the Targaryen’s out of the equation.”

“You can really do that?”

“The other week - at the tailor's, I’d just come away from Balon threatening to cut me out of the company in favour of giving everything to Asha.”

“Fuck,” sympathised Jon.

“Yeah,” Theon nodded, “well, I was hoping if I… this is ridiculous…” Jon stroked Theon’s thigh reassuringly. “I thought he might take me seriously if I dressed differently.”

Jon looked horrified. “Don’t you dare modify yourself for him.”

“It didn’t work… he wanted something more.”

“The Starks.”

“Mmmmm… but anyway, I think we came away with something to make everyone happy, and if he doesn’t see the value in that then fuck him,” said Theon scornfully.

“Dad’s not speaking to me,” Jon sighed, “I’ve both pissed off Aegon - ‘poor sense of loyalty’ apparently - and him - falling prey to ‘The Man’.” They both laughed heartily. “I may have intentionally wound him up buying one of the most expensive suits known to man.”

“100% worth it.”

“You’re so shallow.”

Theon stubbed out the cigarette in an ashtray and took two glass tumblers from the cabinet below the draw of his bedside table along with a bottle of whiskey. “Shallow, but smooth.”

“I don’t think one can call themselves smooth.”

“‘One’,” mocked Theon affectionately, pouring them each a couple of fingers each. “To making enjoyable decisions, be they bad or good,” he said, passing a glass to Jon, “and to future ventures.”

  
  
  
  



End file.
